


Mermaids

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Original Work
Genre: High School, Other, Sports, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9284678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: Recent original work written for the writing prompt 'mermaid'.Hence title.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the writing prompt 'Mermaid'.
> 
> This original work of fiction is the property of its author, should not be used or replicated in any way without prior consent and is intended to bear no resemblance to real persons or circumstances.

“Two minutes, fifteen seconds,” Cherie Vickers, coach to the handful of competitive swimmers at Oakwood Secondary declared loudly, having timed star athlete Tara Weimar's laps around the perimeter of the pool.

 

“God damn it,” she growled frustratedly, bobbing up into a semi standing position and attempting to wipe the sting of chlorine from her eyes. “I was faster than that last week.” 

 

“I know you were,” the older woman said as she made her way around the deck, crouching down close to pool's edge on the opposite side where her student was situated. “You're really off your game lately.” She raised a brow questioningly, wordlessly inquired whether something in particular was clouding her focus. 

 

“I know,” she concurred. “I've just been so distracted.” Well proportioned, meticulously manicured hands emerged from aqua tinted water and she ran them through wispy strands of soaked blonde hair, damaged slightly from repeated exposure to pool chemicals. “I've two more finals tomorrow, then my last one on Wednesday.”

 

“What's the last one?” Cherie asked. Tara had spoken to her of how she'd felt the middle two examinations would prove to be the ones she breezed through most easily.

 

“Advanced calculus with a focus on functions,” she said, feeling her insides turn over themselves at its mere mention. “I'm going to die.” 

 

“Is it an elective?” 

 

“Yeah,” Tara said. “But I was running out of classes I was eligible to take, so I have to pass it or risk being short a credit and getting screwed before graduation.”

 

“Ouch,” Cherie said as her face contorted and she blew out a breath.

 

“I went to peer tutoring, but it didn't help much. Was lost as soon as I was left to my own devices.” 

 

“Well, I wish you luck,” the coach said sincerely. 

 

“Thanks,” she responded. “I'll just have to bullshit my way through it, I guess.” 

 

Cherie half smiled. “You're sure that's all that's bothering you?” 

 

Casting her gaze downward, she picked lazily at a cuticle, trying unsuccessfully to push it back and make it appear as neat and perfect as she wanted. “Well, that and the upcoming anniversary of the upending of my life.”

 

Cherie smiled wryly. Upon first meeting, Tara had been reserved and quiet, off to herself. Eventually, once they'd spent many hours of time together, she'd opened up to her about her life. The day it had been 'upended'. How she'd found herself labelled an amputee. 

 

Freshly turned fifteen two weeks before the fateful day that had seen everything shift, she'd not taken to the changes well at first, felt robbed – rightfully – of normal adolescence.

 

Sleepovers with friends, poring over study notes while indulging in copious amounts of junk food, normal carefree days had been replaced by seemingly endless hours ticking slowly by as she'd lain against the sterile white sheet of a hospital bed, recuperating after an at-the-knee amputation following an accident on the family farm. She'd been run over and pinned underneath her father's tractor when he'd unintentionally lost control, lost her right leg, (he'd managed to escape with minor injury, and this had been a sore spot, added strain to their relationship for many years after) had to endure months of both in and out patient rehab to retrain her body to carry out the most basic of functions.

 

Those first few days and weeks post accident had her thinking she'd never swim again. She hadn't even known how to start learning to exist again as a human, let alone move with the grace, eloquence or stamina of a swimmer. 

 

It was often said by many a philosopher that humans didn't know what they had in them until forced to prove it, found strength where there hadn't been any because it was their only option. Tara had eventually risen from the ashes with life by the groin, slowly but surely beating goals into submission.

 

Physiotherapists and prosthetists had bombarded her with pamphlets, brochures, business cards, supplied endless information about how best to take care of her changed body and urged her to seek out the tools she needed in order to help her learn to swim again. Training sessions in the pool which had always come naturally and passed quickly turned into something she loathed doing, slow and laborious. 

 

Where her legs once naturally did what she subconsciously required of them in the water, the addition of a prosthesis saw her in the beginning training herself to think first and move second. Finding the right fit which allowed her to move the most fluidly, regain confidence in her sport, had been a process of nothing other than trial and error. She'd gone through many in years since, used different kinds for different reasons. 

 

Some were resistant to corrosion, dust and dirt, lighter or heavier weighted than another. The one allocated for swimming saw the heaviest amount of use, had holes that filled with water when her body was submerged to prevent a single part of her from remaining buoyant, knee and ankle joints that met necessary requirements specific to being in or around bodies of water. 

 

As her life had been shaken up, so too had her circle of friends. Some vowed to stick by her in the beginning, only to branch out and desert her when the toughest storms came. Some who'd deserted her years previously had slowly made their way back, showing her who they truly were and proving colossal amounts of devotion and loyalty.

 

The hardest thing to acclimate herself to had been the ways in which strangers had begun to look at her. Pity danced in their eyes, heads shaking just enough for her to notice. Seemingly overnight, her status had changed from person to thing, and it had taken her longer than she would have liked to realise opinions of strangers didn't matter, that to those who did, she'd never have to work to prove her worth.

 

Cliquey girls at school had whispered 'peg leg' at her back, even some on the swim team questioned whether she truly had it in her to be there when she'd finally come back. 

 

She'd proven them all wrong. Confidence had grown back. Peg leg had been detached and thrown at cliquey girls without a care in the world, even after it had resulted in a three day suspension.

 

As fit to her new skin as she'd come to be, there were still days and would always be that saw her worn, stressed, emotional, angry, or overwhelmed - sometimes all at once. 

 

On days such as those, she went in search of her Mum, needing to hear the one sentence that had come to be life sustaining reassurance and the strongest light in every inch of dark.

 

'You're a mermaid, darling. They're not all the same kind of pretty.' 

 

“Tara!?” Cherie called, pulling her out of the fog she'd slipped into.

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

“Do one more set of laps and I'll time you again, see if you can do better,” she winked.

 

The blonde refocused, set herself into starting position, was off the instant her coach said 'go'.

 

“Two minutes even,” she called when she'd finished the last lap and situated herself next to the pool wall. 

 

“Yes!” she said, raising an arm in emphatic fist pump, having knocked fifteen seconds off her previous time.

 

“Oh, by the way,” Cherie said, making her way over again. “Lisa quit, so I'm thinking I'll make you team Captain.” 

 

“What? No, I don't know if I'm cut out for that,” she responded nervously, eyes growing wide. 

 

“You're a mermaid, honey,” she said, crouching down close to her and smiling. “Mermaids are cut out for anything.”


End file.
